Can a whisky help?
by SylvieT
Summary: Post 9 06. Brass and Grissom continue that chat after the credits rolled.Spoiler if not watched season 9.


"I'm sorry we solved this... I really am…" said Grissom with a far away look.

"That's not like you, I know it's sad but now is the start of a better life for him," said Brass getting the bottle of whisky out of his bottom drawer. It had been a long time since they had shared a drink in his office after a case and had the opportunity to chat. But Brass felt it was a long time coming and certainly overdue. Only the previous week, he had seen his friend troubled, for want of a stronger word, and had associated it with the message Sara had sent him and wondered whether he would open up to him a little then. But that was a week ago and he was loathed to mention that he had heard from Sara and about the 'break-up' and break the promise he had made to her to discretely keep an eye on him.

Grissom looked up and took the glass Brass was offering him. He needed a drink. He thought about his next words carefully before saying:

"It used to be about the 'how', you know, about collecting the evidence, processing it without paying much attention to the 'why', that's your job, not mine, you're the detective, but now I can't help but consider that in this case the 'why' is more important. That poor boy, Park, he was only eight!"

"Why is that, Gil?" inquired Brass. This was more than just about the case, he was sure of it. He had seen his friend change in the last few months since Warrick's death. They had not spoken about it; they each had their own way of dealing with these things and talking about it was not one of them. He had felt that Sara's return for the funeral had helped Grissom cope but even that had only been temporary and now he could see that their break up only added to his pain.

Grissom looked at the glass in his hand as if it held the answer to that question before confiding: "I don't know if I can do this anymore or even if I want to…" He let his words trail. Brass had heard the rumours from dispatch that Grissom was not answering his calls with the same 'enthusiasm', when he even answered them at all. "You know at the hospital the boy asked who I was and I struggled. I couldn't say I was a CSI or even a scientist, I couldn't think of what to say."

"Warrick's death has affected us all in different ways; you were probably closer to him than any of us, as a mentor, a friend, a father figure. He looked up to you. I can understand how your focus has changed, how you see things differently. But that's only temporary I'm sure."

Grissom nodded his head silently and took another sip of his drink. They both remained silent for a while, deep in their thoughts while slowly drinking their whisky. Brass tried to top up Grissom's glass but Grissom put his hand across the top and explained:

"I need to go home soon and take care of Hank, he hasn't been too well lately and I can't bear to leave him with the sitter for too long!" Brass nodded.

"Have you ever felt like chucking it all in? whispered Grissom.

"Everyday, well, every time I get a hard case and that's getting more often than it used to but what would I do? I am the job, I just move on to the next case." Brass added. "Is that what's bothering you, Gil? Is the job getting too much for you? Maybe, you need to take another sabbatical."

Brass let Grissom think about his words a little and continued: "I don't think you're being honest with yourself, are you Gil? Come on, what's really on your mind?"

"Last week, I spent the night at Heather's…"

"Well, that's not the first time it's happened, is it? What makes this time different?" interrupted Brass.

He could remember clearly the last time Grissom had spent the night at Heather's. It was more than a year and a half ago when he had served as her alibi. He knew they were friends, he could not understand why but that was beside the point.

"Did she help you? Is that why you went to see her?" Brass asked curtly. Well, if he wanted to talk about Heather, he was fine with that.

"I wanted to … I've got to go, sorry, Jim, can we talk later?" Grissom said drinking the remainder of his whisky as he got up to go. He didn't want to be doing this now and he could see where this was leading.

"Have you heard from Sara?" There, he had said it; he was fed up with skirting round the issue. Grissom sat back down slowly, letting out a long sigh he didn't know he was keeping in.

"She's on a trip"

"I know that"

"She says she's happy, she's moving on" he continued. "What do you mean? How do you know she's on a trip?"

Brass didn't reply at first and then said "She sent me an e-mail, she wanted me to keep an eye on you, said that she hadn't heard from you since she left, she was worried you'd bottle things up, seems that she was right".

"Yeah, well, it's too late."

"I don't think so, Gil, don't make the same mistake I made with Ellie, sort things out before it really is too late."

"And what, Jim? Leave all this?" he gestured with his hand. He was starting to become somewhat agitated. "You of all people can understand why I can't do that!"

"Can't or won't" Brass asked simply. "What keeps you here if you don't enjoy it anymore? Go be with her. She doesn't sound happy to me, Gil, you're only kidding yourself if you think that."

Grissom had heard enough, it had been a hard couple of days, he looked at his friend, nodded his thanks for the drink and with that got up and left his office.


End file.
